


Five Powerless Hours

by thepopeisdope



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Castiel, Christmas Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Body Heat, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepopeisdope/pseuds/thepopeisdope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The power goes out at Dean and Castiel's dorm, and sharing body heat has its perks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Powerless Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful [Arianna](http://ariwillowtwist.tumblr.com/).

Castiel’s teeth are chattering. Chills shake his body so badly that it feels like he’s been set on vibrate. He pulls his blankets a bit tighter around himself as though that might help somehow.

It doesn’t, of course. The sound of his teeth clacking together still sounds deafening in the otherwise silent dorm room.

“…Cas?” Dean asks suddenly, from across the gap between their beds. “You alright, buddy?”

“I’m f-f-fine,” Castiel grits out, trying and failing to stop the shuddering of his jaw which is disrupting his words. “G-go back to s-sleep.”

Dean sighs. “I wasn’t asleep anyway. I don’t think I _can_ sleep, knowing you’re freezing to death over there.” There’s a pause, and a slight creak and rustle of blankets as Dean repositions himself in his bed. “Are you _sure_ you don’t have any more blankets than that? _Anything_ else?”

“I’m sure,” Castiel snaps in return. The power has been out in their residence hall for over five hours, and in that time, Castiel’s lack of preparation has oft been discussed. It’s honestly like rubbing salt in the wound, at this point.

It’s not _his_ fault that he grew up in sunny California and is now ill prepared for shitty Midwestern winters. It wouldn’t have been much of a problem, either, if this blizzard hadn’t knocked the power out of basically the entire city. Eight inches of snow out of nowhere just plain _shouldn’t happen_.

And really, the dorm hall should be capable of retaining at least _some_ of its warmth without electricity. Considering the fact that they’re in a state known for harsh winters, it’s just a show of poor planning.

_Dean_ , on the other hand, is totally fine over in his bed, a reality which Castiel is actively trying to convince himself he doesn’t resent. Dean grew up somewhat locally, so he knows what to expect from the weather. Therefore, while he has the same amount of blankets that Cas does, he also has a down comforter over the top that traps in his body heat.

It really shouldn’t be too surprising that Dean is boy scout-level prepared for literally any situation, but it still irks Castiel at least a little bit. He’d even had candles at the ready which they had used to light the room before deciding to call it a day and go to bed. Those were _on top of_ a battery-powered lantern that’s now turned off and waiting by Dean’s bed in case they need to use it. It all just adds to the impression that Castiel had first gotten of his roommate when they met at the beginning of the quarter: Dean is too damn perfect for his own good.

Now, usually, that wouldn’t be a problem. But in this case it is, because every perfect thing that Dean does just makes Castiel fall for him a little bit more.

He turns to bury himself further in his blankets, tries a little harder to block Dean out. This whole situation is a miserable failing on Castiel’s part, and Dean doesn’t need to worry about it.

Dean blows out a long, even breath, then says, “Come over here.”

Castiel is so shocked that for a moment, even his teeth stop chattering. He rolls over to face Dean, even though he can’t see him through the gloom. “What?”

“I said,” Dean says patiently, “come over here. You might be all half-frozen and pissy, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to let you freeze to death. Add your blankets to mine and we can… share body heat.”

Castiel almost refuses on principle alone—sharing a bed with Dean? His crush is out of control enough, thanks—but a harsh tremor wracks his body, and his self-preservation instincts kick in. He gathers up his meager throw blanket and quilt and crosses the gap over to Dean’s bed. He stands there for a moment, not quite sure what to do with himself, until Dean sits up and turns on his little lantern.

“Oh god,” Castiel mutters, blinking rapidly against the sudden light and rubbing at his eyes as Dean does the same. “Is that n-necessary?”

Damn his chattering teeth.

Dean makes a noncommittal noise. “At least until we’re situated. Now come on, get in here,” he says, pulling back the corner of his blankets and sliding toward the far side of the bed to make room for Castiel. “I can hear your teeth chattering, dude, we have to stop that.”

Castiel nods, and haphazardly spreads the blankets he had brought over the top of Dean’s before sliding into the bed beside him.

The bed is incredibly warm from Dean’s body heat, and it instantly starts working to thaw out Castiel’s ice-cold limbs. Another tremor shakes him, though this one is far less unpleasant than the last. He’s helpless to stop the sigh of contentment that escapes him.

Beside him, Dean chuckles softly. “Guess I probably should have just invited you over here sooner, huh?”

Castiel meets his eye in the lamplight and can’t help but give him a wry smile. “Perhaps.”

Dean smiles back, but rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright. Don’t push it. I’m trying to be a good Samaritan, here.”

“Of course, D-Dean.” An untimely shiver caused that last word to stutter, and Castiel frowns. He’s already warmer in Dean’s bed than he was in his own, yes, but apparently not even Dean’s presence can serve as an instant cure-all in this situation.

Dean frowns too, and looks Castiel over with a critical eye. “We should probably fix that,” he says, then reaches up to flick the lantern off again. Once the room is plunged back into darkness, Dean scoots in close to Castiel, just enough for their arms to brush together beneath the blankets. Heat radiates off of him like a furnace, and Castiel finds himself shifting closer before he can think better of it.

This is dangerous. _Really_ dangerous. Castiel is hooked enough on Dean’s friendship _without_ factoring in any kind of physical element, platonic almost-cuddling or not. And really, that’s what this is—almost cuddling. Castiel _would_ cuddle with him at this point, too, if he wasn’t sure it would get him thrown out of the bed and away from the only warmth he’s felt in hours.

Even just the slight contact he has with Dean right now is entrancing, in terms of both the satisfaction of physical proximity, and the warmth it’s giving him. Castiel would gladly wrap around him like an octopus right about now, for either reason.

Castiel shivers again, and Dean sighs, undoubtedly having felt it. After a moment, he clears his throat and asks quietly, “If I do something… Do you promise not to freak out?”

“Dean, w-what are you—?”

Before he can finish voicing the question, Dean scoots over the remaining distance so that their sides are completely pressed together, and loops an arm around Castiel’s shoulders to pull him in even closer. Castiel gasps in surprise, but the increase in warmth is undeniably exquisite, and he twists to burrow into Dean’s chest.

Dean laughs quietly. “So, _not_ freaking out, then. Cool.”

“Shut up,” Castiel grumbles, absently rubbing his face against Dean’s shirt. He realizes what he’s doing too late and freezes—in the metaphorical sense, this time—adding with forced nonchalance, “Sorry. You’re very warm.”

Dean huffs in amusement, but in his current position, Castiel can hear the other boy’s heart picking up pace in his chest.

Castiel needs a distraction, right now. Otherwise he’s going to dwell too much on Dean’s body, and that can only make things worse. The last thing Castiel needs is to start getting _hard_ or something, and with the way things are going right now, that possibility is already far too likely.

He asks the first question that comes to mind. “Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?”

They had talked about it a bit when the quarter ended, but Dean’s explanation had been half-assed at best, no more than a throwaway line about not wanting to make the drive back to his family home. Castiel had never been satisfied with that answer, because in the weeks leading up to break, Dean hadn’t been shy about expressing his excitement in going home for a while.

One of Dean’s shoulders twitches in a shrug. “Didn’t feel like making the drive,” he says, just like he had before.

Castiel frowns. He knows that Dean is lying to him. “You wanted to go before, though,” he argues. “And if you had gone, you wouldn’t have ended up stuck here with me without power.”

Dean is quiet for a moment, then he asks, “Why didn’t _you_ go home, Cas? I’m pretty sure it’s not because you couldn’t afford a plane ticket, like you said.”

Castiel tenses. So maybe Dean wasn’t the only one who had lied. But if he wants the truth from Dean, Castiel knows he’ll have to fess up to his own secrets. “I didn’t go home because I… don’t get along with my family.”

Dean shifts beneath him, and Castiel gets the distinct impression that the other boy would be staring at him, if there were any light to see by. “Why not? What do you mean?”

“They, um… They don’t agree with my ‘life choices’. For a number of reasons.” He takes a shaky breath. He’d rather not talk about his overly conservative family, nor the fights he often had with them over his sexuality before he threw in the towel and moved across the country for college. He turns the conversation back to Dean and asks again, “Why didn’t you go home?”

“Cas, you really shouldn’t be surprised that I chose to stay on campus,” Dean replies. “I wasn’t just going to leave you here alone, man. No one deserves that.”

Part of Castiel is ecstatic to hear that Dean stayed for _him_ , but at the same time, the idea that Dean chose to skip his family’s holiday plans out of some sort of pity infuriates him. It’s the latter of the two emotions that wins out, and he wrenches himself out from under Dean’s arm, moving as far away from him as he is willing with the threat of the cold still lingering. “Don’t treat me like a charity case, Dean. I’m just your roommate, I’m not more important than your family.”

Dean grasps blindly at his shoulder to keep him from retreating further, and when he speaks again, Castiel is surprised by the anger behind his words. “Damnit, Cas, why the hell do you think that makes you a _charity case_? Is it really so hard for you to believe that I _care about you_?” He sucks in a sharp breath at the end, like he has revealed something he didn’t intend to.

Castiel suddenly feels lightheaded. “You… what?”

Instead of responding with words, Dean makes a sound that almost resembles a growl, and before Castiel knows it, Dean has pulled their bodies back together and Dean’s lips are on his own.

Castiel gasps, and immediately leans into the touch. His brain isn’t quite sure what’s happening—he can’t really be _kissing Dean_ , can he?—but his body is _more_ than on-board with this new course of action. His mouth works against Dean’s on autopilot while he tries to get himself as close to the other boy as is physically possible. He digs a hand into Dean’s bed-rumpled hair and swings his leg over Dean’s body to straddle his hips.

Dean is the one to finally pull away from the kiss, and he chuckles breathlessly. “Well, you’re a lot cooler about all of this than I honestly expected you to be. Guess I was stressing for no reason.”

Castiel adjusts his position over Dean’s hips just slightly, biting down on a moan when the movement causes his erection to brush against Dean’s. It takes effort to focus on Dean’s words and not chase the friction that a swivel of his hips promises. “You were… stressing? Why?”

He feels Dean shrug, and he immediately wishes the lantern were on so he could see the expression on the other boy’s face right now. “I’m… kind of into you. Crazy into you, actually. But I didn’t think you would… You know. Feel the same. I didn’t want it to ruin things.”

White-hot happiness sweeps through Castiel, and he leans down to forcefully press his smile into Dean’s mouth. Dean seems to get what he’s trying to say, especially if his bruising grip on Castiel’s hips is anything to go by, but after a moment of traded kisses, he trails his lips over to the shell of Dean’s ear and whispers, “I’m crazy into you, too.”

In a flash, Dean pulls Castiel back down to the bed and flips them both so that he’s on top, pinning Castiel completely beneath his weight. He drags his teeth across Castiel’s lower lip then proceeds to lick into his mouth, all while his hips grind against Castiel’s own. The combination of sensations is almost too much for him to handle and he cries out, clutching desperately at Dean and wrapping his legs around his waist.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans, breaking their kiss to just press his temple to Castiel’s and breathe. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

The words draw another moan from Castiel, who still can’t really wrap his head around the idea that _Dean_ could want _him_. “Dean,” he somehow manages to say, “fuck me.”

All of Dean’s movements come to a halt, and his hands lock around Castiel’s wrists as he hovers above him. “Cas, are you sure? We don’t have to—”

Castiel bucks against Dean’s hold, but it’s incredibly obvious that Dean is stronger than he is, and it gains him nothing. “Dean, _please_.”

And then Dean is drawing away, and Castiel is whining for a whole new reason. Dean tosses the blankets back and lets in a flood of frigid air, which draws an undignified yelp out of him and nearly kills his arousal altogether. Dean flips the lantern on, too, blinding Castiel on top of everything else. There’s the sound of a drawer opening and then Dean is sliding right back into the bed, squashing Castiel’s fears of rejection before they even finish taking root.

Castiel’s vision is still a bit blurry because of the lantern’s brightness, but he can see well enough to recognize the objects Dean has retrieved—a condom and a bottle of lube. His heart beats a little faster at the sight.

“Cas,” Dean says, placing a gentle hand on the side of Castiel’s face to force him to meet his eyes. “Are you absolutely sure about this? I mean, have you ever…”

Castiel swallows down the nerves that threaten to overtake him for a moment, and shakes his head. “I haven’t. But I trust you, Dean. Please.”

Dean groans again and swoops down to claim Castiel’s mouth in a bruising kiss. All of the excitement from before quickly returns, and very little time is wasted before Dean is tugging Castiel’s shirt off and tossing it away, his own shirt following suit. Stripping down doesn’t seem like it would be a good idea given how cold the room still is, but between the layers of blankets cocooning them and the warmth of skin on skin, it’s hardly a concern of Castiel’s anymore.

Dean hooks his fingers in the waistband of Castiel’s pajama pants and looks up with an eyebrow raised in question. Castiel nods, and then suddenly his pants and boxers are gone and he’s completely naked beneath Dean’s reverent gaze.

“Perfect,” he whispers, running one of his hands down Castiel’s chest, over a taut nipple, and down across his ribs and navel to his groin. His fingers dance teasingly around Castiel’s cock, but he only lightly brushes them against the hardened flesh before trailing even lower and dragging the pad of his thumb over the pucker of Castiel’s hole.

Castiel presses his hips down against the touch as best he can, and only barely has the presence of mind to grab the bottle of lube from where it rests near his head and slide it down toward Dean’s hands. “Dean, stop _teasing me_.”

Dean just chuckles and presses a light kiss to Castiel’s forehead. “Be patient,” he reprimands, but the _click_ of the lube bottle opening does a pretty good job of belying that order. Within moments a lube-slicked finger is sliding into Castiel, slowly at first, and then with more intent to work him open.

Castiel has only done this to himself a few times, but it feels so much better with Dean’s fingers in place of his own. He writhes around the single digit, and almost comes on the spot when Dean bends it just right to press against his prostate. He moans and latches his arms around Dean’s shoulders, confident that his hands are leaving marks of some sort or another behind. Dean doesn’t appear to mind it, at least, as he adds a second finger alongside the first. He drops his head down, lowering his mouth to Castiel’s chest, and begins sucking and kissing over his nipples, one after the other.

By this point, Castiel is only barely hanging onto the last shreds of his self-control, and when the time comes for him to feel a _third_ of Dean’s fingers enter him, he practically screams with bliss and frustration. He fists his hands in Dean’s hair and forces his head up for a sloppy kiss, growling against the other boy’s lips, “Dean, if you don’t fuck me right now, I will go back to my own bed, so help me God.”

Dean’s eyes narrow at the threat. “You wouldn’t dare,” he says, though he still withdraws his fingers from Castiel and reaches for the condom to roll it over himself. The abrupt feeling of emptiness sends a wave of disappointment through Castiel, but given that he’s the one who _asked_ for Dean to stop fingering him, the unexpected emotion kind of makes him want to laugh at his own ridiculousness.

He tries his best to give Dean a deadpan look, though he isn’t sure how convincing it ends up being, given the desperate arousal burning him from the inside out. “Try me.”

Dean just laughs and gives him a bright grin in return. Castiel hears the bottle of lube finally click closed, and he can tell even beneath the cover of blankets that Dean is readying himself. “That’s alright, I think I’ll just take your word on this one.”

“Good call,” Castiel mutters, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on the banter before Dean is guiding his legs up to wrap around his waist and nudging against Castiel’s hole with the head of his cock.

Dean presses in slowly and steadily, and when he finally bottoms out, Castiel’s breath leaves him in a burst. His ankles automatically tighten where they interlock at the small of Dean’s back, and he takes a moment to gather himself and adjust to the hot length that’s now inside of him.

“Cas, you good?” Dean asks, his voice ragged with the effort of restraining himself. However, even in the poor light from the lantern, his eyes are green and bright and filled with so much happiness and affection that it makes Castiel’s heart ache.

He loves Dean so much that hurts.

Castiel hauls Dean down for a kiss and tries to convey the tightness in his chest through the movements of their lips, then breaks away with a nod. “I’m good.”

Dean practically sighs with relief. He pulls his hips back slowly then immediately thrusts forward and in again, and they both groan at the feeling. He repeats the movement a few more times, maintaining his languid pace and dragging his cock over Castiel’s prostate with every stroke.

Castiel cries Dean’s name over and over again like a prayer as they start to establish a rhythm, too blissed out to even attempt a wider vocabulary. He bucks his hips back against each thrust, loving every second of Dean’s cock moving inside him.

After an utterly indiscernible amount of time, Dean drops one of his hands to Castiel’s dick and starts pumping it in a steady counter-rhythm to the movements of his hips. That’s all it takes for Castiel to finally fly over the edge. His body locks up, his hold on Dean tightens even further, and the moment his eyes meet Dean’s, he comes so hard he swears his vision whites out.

Dean slams into Castiel once, twice more, and then he’s coming too, with a guttural moan of Castiel’s name. Once he’s spent, he collapses on top of him, heedless of the mess across both of their stomachs. Castiel is content to lay like that for some time, though he shifts obligingly when Dean has to eventually pull his softened cock out of him, tying off and discarding the condom. He falls right back into place next to Castiel as soon as he’s done, and puts his arm around Cas’ shoulders to hug him to his chest.

Castiel feels contentedly drained, and happily lets his eyes slip closed as he tucks himself into Dean’s chest. They’re both somewhat gross by this point and desperately in need of showers, but until the power comes back up, there isn’t much to be done about that. He uses his last bit of energy to reach up and flick the lantern off, returning them to the dark.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I didn’t say it before, but… Thank you for staying here with me over break. I’m glad you did.”

Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m glad too, Cas. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Castiel mumbles back, just as he finally allows sleep to claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://thursdays-fallen-angel.tumblr.com)


End file.
